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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769066">Welcome to the renaissance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ideasofmarch/pseuds/Ideasofmarch'>Ideasofmarch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>There's a fine line between eccentric and absolutely bonkers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Merlin gets to be happy, Moving On, Post-Canon, Socks, and then sad, but it gets better, but not really, he's immortal, idk if this is actually funny but uh, if you know what i mean, just accepting ones situation for what it is, no beta we die like men, of course people are gonna die on him, people die but it's not traumatic or anything, the renaissance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:35:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ideasofmarch/pseuds/Ideasofmarch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With Merlin finally out of his six hundred year long depressive episode - sort of - it's time to finally start living.</p><p>Now if only Merlin could figure out how the hell to do that. </p><p>Luckily for him, the renaissance was chock full of alcohol and poets perfectly willing to spin his sadness into a cheery little jig.</p><p>-</p><p>this is part three in a series. but technically part two of the prologues. This entire story is me filling in the blanks of what Merlin was up to while Arthur hit snooze at the bottom of a lake. give it a read :D</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin (Merlin)/Original Male Character(s), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>There's a fine line between eccentric and absolutely bonkers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Welcome to the renaissance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm back, baby!<br/>yeah, yeah, i'm supposed to be studying i know i know. i'm also just kind of useless and chemistry is the frickin worst so instead i'm writing about an immortal sorcerer m'kay? <br/>Anyway, hears the renaissance!! <br/>Love,<br/>IdeasOfMarch</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome to the renaissance </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The years following the well incident were… rough, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen years of isolation took its toll, on both his body and his mind. He didn’t just look like a half-decayed corpse, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> like one too. It took months to scrounge up enough food that his body wasn’t in immediate danger of collapsing, and a year still before he could walk into a village and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> incite a mass panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had decided, sometime between sitting in that well and bringing his body back to life, that he wouldn’t waste his years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thousands before him had died searching for the secret to immortality - and while Merlin was adamant that it wasn’t so much a secret as a nasty bugger of a curse - it felt almost like spitting on their graves to let himself waste away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was Merlin. An immortal. The most powerful sorcerer the world had ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could handle a little heartbreak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass full of watered down ale passed sloppily into his hand said otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin mumbled a thanks and took a sip, grimacing at the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man laughed, “Aye, mate. Tastes worse than piss, but it gets the job done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.” Merlin said, but he took another swig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man wondered back off towards the bar, leaving Merlin to his brooding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe Merlin was handling his return to civilization less well then he thought he would. But everything seemed so clear and easy in the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Step one: eat enough to not look like a walking husk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Step two: go into a town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Step three: live a fulfilling life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first two had been accomplished easily enough. He’d even sat smack in the middle of the bar instead of secluding himself in the corner - that was an improvement, at least. It was just step three that was giving him grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Live a fulfilling life,</span>
  </em>
  <span> what the hell did that even mean?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin drained his glass and motioned for a refill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a bard singing something ridiculous and peppy. It must have been popular, half the patrons were merily singing along. The same man came back around with a jug, he poured more of the ale into Merlin’s glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good, mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” Merlin shot him a grin, and he knew it looked almost wrong on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man nodded in sympathy, regardless, “We’ve all had those nights. Drink some more, you’ll feel worse in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin scrunched his brows, “Aren’t you supposed to tell me i’ll feel better in the morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mother didn’t raise a liar,” he smirked mischievously and winked, “And I’d reckon the hangover will distract you from whatever it is that’s got you so sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin hummed, “You’re just trying to sell me more ale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man laughed, “Is it working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, and that was enough to make Merlin almost fall off his stool in shock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>first human contact in nearly a thousand years, no big deal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked at the bar, the man was smirking at him, just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was… a development.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin left the inn sometime past midnight, thirteen glasses of ale in and warm all over. He had the funds for a room, but he’d spent the last three years sleeping in trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baby steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to the inn the next night. And the next, and the next and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin learned all the popular songs, he learned the names and faces of all the other regulars. He took to spending most evenings chatting with Tomas - the bar man. Soon enough people came to expect him there, they made plans to meet him and gave him updates on their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody commented on where he went during the days - Merlin appreciated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular night, Tomas was off duty and swaying drunkenly next to him. Another man, Rolf the carpenter, had an arm around his shoulder and all three of them were singing - and that was generous, given that it was more accurate to say they were shouting ¾ of the words off time - along to an upbeat song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bang away, bang away!” Tomas called out, Merlin and Rolf laughed at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi! Fuck off, the both of ye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, mate.” Merlin snorted, “I think you’ve had one too many.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘I’ve had the same’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, truth be told he was just as out of it as Tomas, he was just better at pretending to be sober, “Maybe you’re just a lightweight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I man the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tomas said indignantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolf patted Tomas on the back, “Maybe you should get this one to his room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Merlin grumbled. Tomas had a room on the top floor of the inn, Merlin had had to lug his drunk arse up those steps many a time in the months he’d been hanging around. He didn’t mind, really. Tomas gave him the less shit ale and good company, Merlin could make sure he didn’t pass out on the dirty floor downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin waved Rolf goodbye, draining the last of his ale before getting both of his hands under Tomas’s armpits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, big guy.” Merlin muttered, Tomas hummed next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was taller than him, and wider in the shoulders too, the only reason Merlin could hope to carry his weight was thanks to some subtle magic. He put his head down, feigning exhaustion, to hide the glow of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fished the key to the room out of Tomas’s shirt pocket, kicking the door shut with his heel before depositing Tomas on the bed and shaking out his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of these days,” Merlin said, wagging a finger at Tomas’s amused face, “I’m going to drop you down those stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t.” Tomas smirked. Merlin turned around, rolling his eyes so hard he was pretty sure Tomas could hear it. He walked to the door and opened it before turning over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you wa- </span>
  <em>
    <span>mpf</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never did finish that sentence - or finish opening the door for that matter - because Tomas was suddenly right there in front of him, pushing his shoulders into the wood of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomas looked at him almost questioningly. Merlin barely noted the look, his eyes kept flicking to his lips, which were still red and full from the drinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And well, that answered that question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomas dove in at the same time Merlin surged forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin thanked every god in the sky that Tomas did not understand the meaning of the word awkward. He went right back to being Merlin’s friend when they woke up the next morning, so Merlin felt more than comfortable giving Tomas hell for being a </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain in his arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing really changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin still disappeared during the day to go release and train with his magic. He still wandered into town as the sun set. He still chattered, more and more everyday, with the locals. He still perched by the bar, sharing quips and smirks with Tomas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only difference was that he was finally starting to get used to beds again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This town he’d chosen. It was really one in a million. The people were close knit, yet they’d practically accepted Merlin as one of their own. By now the concept of actual magic was but a fading memory, but he was fairly certain every person here was aware of the unearthly vibe he gave off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin found that he’d miss them all, one day everyone he’d come to love would die - just like in Camelot - and he’d live on, alone. It was almost enough to knock him back down into depression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for this town that he’d learnt how to slowly age, how to withhold his magic just enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only felt a little bad for being the reason Tomas never married. Merlin was reasonably sure that Tomas wouldn’t have married regardless of his involvement in the matter - the man hadn’t a straight bone in his body - but still. The town was weirdly progressive, they didn’t so much mind if two ladies or two boys shacked up together so long as they weren’t too public about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolf married the butcher's daughter and named Merlin the godfather of their first son. He’s not ashamed to admit he cried when Rolf placed the baby into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stayed in that town until his godson fell in love for the first time. Leo introduced the girl, Kamila, to him and told Merlin that he’d intended to marry her. Merlin laughed, patting the young couple on their backs. Rolf and his wife passed a few years ago. Leo asked Merlin to be his best man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d stayed for the wedding before ‘passing’ in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They buried his body - or the lumps of clay he’d magiced to look like his body - next to Tomas, and his heart ached to watch Leo and his siblings cry at the funeral. But it was time. Soon enough he’d be nothing but a story to the people of the town, a beloved memory, if he was lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d set off for the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>London, he’d heard was its name, was a bustling hubbub of people and horses and filth. This too, took some adjustment. There were too many shoulders to brush into and the stink of sewage filled the air. Trees were a foreign concept to these folk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin kind of hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the alcohol here was better than in any village he’d ever been to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people here were ruder, less friendly. But they also cared a whole lot less about his daily happenings. Merlin was able to slip in and out of scenes. Go to plays, eat at a restaurant, be surrounded by hundreds of faces and yet never have a single conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was only the second time he’d had to grieve an entire life. He imagined he’d be doing this many more times before Arthur returned to him. So instead of shutting himself off, taking another six hundred years and a trip into a dark well, Merlin threw himself into life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Threw himself into </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembering</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin bought a couple of leather bound books and half a gallon of ink pots. He rented an apartment, nothing too fancy but still more than most people could afford in their lifetimes, and got to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrote about Tomas, the ridiculously friendly bartender. He wrote about the friendliness of the townspeople, the games the children used to play. He put down the lyrics to every song he could remember and described the awful taste of the ale. Merlin wrote about Rolf and his elaborate marriage proposal - the one he’d conscripted the entire town into making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrote about watching Leo grow up. Wrote about loss, that plague that had taken both Leo’s parents and Tomas. Merlin had gotten sick too, almost all the adults had, only difference was he came back to life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know if he’d ever show these books to anyone, but it made him feel better that if he ever forgot, even accidentally,  he’d be able to read through these books and refresh his memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin got drunk for the people he lost. Raising a silent toast and telling anyone who would listen about this time Leo developed a crush on the daughter of the only other carpenter in town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say,” A man sat down next to him, “That’s a nice premise for a tragedy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes, “The girl was only rebelling against her father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl had dropped Leo very quickly after their parents bickering turned into an all out feud. Merlin should know, Tomas and him had had to console the poor boy for days after the fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but what if she hadn’t been.” The man had a quill in one hand and a mug of ale in the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” Merlin asked, “A writer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A playwright, actually.” The man offered Merlin his hand. “My name’s will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a friend named Will.” Merlin said, “once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>New Will’s eyes lit up, “Tell me about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was the start of a beautiful friendship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will was a brilliant writer, and he assumed that Merlin shared his passion. Of course, all of Merlin's stories were true, but it’s not like anyone seriously believed in dragons anymore. Regardless, Will was willing to buy Merlin as many drinks as he wanted so long as he kept spinning his ‘tall tails’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Merlin probably would have done it for free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never actually talked to someone about what he’d gone through, at least, someone that wasn’t Gaius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In return, Will would tell Merlin about his own stories and invite him to all his plays - which, really, they were amazing. And Merlin somehow found himself becoming an avid member of the literary society despite the fact that he’d not written a single thing - well, nothing he was willing to share anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Merlin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Merlin staunchly refused to budge from his seat, Will was tugging his arm but Merlin had seventy three years of muscle built up on a strong thirty year old body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we just </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> get a portrait done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those things cost more than my left leg.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the money!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven drinks later, Merlin and Will were posed on top of a single stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paint us on a horse,” Will said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” The painter frowned, “Standing up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard the man,” Merlin pointed at the painter, “Both of us standing on one horse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The painter's eyebrows shot up, “One horse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Merlin and Will said at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right away, sirs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The painting took several hours to complete, and they’d both regretted their chosen position after about twenty minutes. Eventually the painter told them they could both come down and they’d scrambled to see the portrait, it was only half finished, just their faces done and a vague outline of their bodies and the horse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be finished by Thursday.” The painter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll pick it up.” Will said, then to Merlin, “You want a copy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks, mate.” he laughed, “You hold onto it for the both of us, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Merlin forgot all about the portrait. Mostly because he was too sloshed to remember it, but also a tiny bit because he didn’t want to think of what a terrible idea it was to get a portrait done with someone as famous as Will was becoming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed in the city for another hundred or so years. Merlin hadn’t bothered aging, no one looked too closely and he’d lost track of Will some thirty years ago. He’d only been stabbed three times - and two of those were in an illegal duel so do they really even count? - and only drowned once - all in all rounding up to make it the least deaths per century so far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Europeans had found out about the rest of the world a while ago, but Merlin had been… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hesitant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to explore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only method so far was travelling by boats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>boats</span>
  </em>
  <span> were on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>water</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin disliked the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was either water or staying in London for another hundred years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone threw a bucket of sewage out their window, narrowly missing Merlin’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Facing his trauma it was.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next up is the golden age of piracy!! Where we get to see Merlin kick names and take asses, also dealing with water related trauma :D</p><p>my tumblr: negligiblyfae.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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